Real War
by Zealit
Summary: We are Clone Troopers. We are perfect fighters. This is my story. Clone solider fic.R&R please! Some gore.


The Real War

I am Unit 4E8-R5T. I am a soldier for the Republic. I am the grunt, the faceless killer. I am a clone warrior. Such thoughts we are not allowed. But we all think that. We are warriors. We strive to be above that normal standard of a soldier. Doing our duty with perfect precision. This is our life. I have been order by our Jedi commander to keep a record of our time and of my thoughts. To many people view us as living droids. I can see it in their eyes. They way they cower in fear. But we are not. Maybe it is because we are not the noble Jedi. With there mystical powers and there lightsabers. A symbol of good. Maybe it is because we are all the same. Maybe just maybe it is because they feel sorrow for us. We are the first to die and the last to be healed. We are the first in the last out. We are Clone Troopers. We are perfect fighters. This is my story.

Battle is hot. The armor protects you but it does make sure you are very warm. The gun also becomes red hot after hours of being fired. Then there is the smell the stink of death of burning oil from shattered droids. Next the sounds. The wump of grenades the screams the gunfire the engines. And last. There is the thrill! Charging across the ground your rifle firing and destroying enemies! It is pure life! Then the reality hits you. Around you men die are blow up their bloody remains making traces down your armor. You see death. And you fight because you are ordered. I will describe my first battle. This was on Genosis.

The dropship is dark. We have been order to silence. A stealth drop. In minutes the battle will be upon us. Alone without the watching eyes of the commanders and "ordinary" people we prepare. Our squad has a prayer. We say it before each battle. It is a child's pray. So simple yet true. It is. "Keep me safe from harm. Guard me this day or night. And protect me to my last breath." This is the beginning of it. We have changed it though so the last part is like. "Make my rifle accurate my arm strong. Make me pitiless make me merciless. Protect my brothers. If I can die to save them let it be so." And thus we land. Our sergeant's voice hits out ears. "MOVE! MOVE!" We pile out in perfect formation. Around us battalions are formed up. Up ahead we can see explosions and hear gunfire. In the distance the sky flashes. "Fifth squad you are to go with this Jedi. Master Luminar. You will obey her as you would the chancellor." "Yes sir." Our response is automatic. Inwardly we all size up our new commander. She is some species I do not know. With tattoos marking her face. But no matter. She signals us forward. Dropping our guns we follow in perfect unison.

In five minutes we hit the front lines. Our secondary order was to protect the Jedi. At this time we did not know all they could do. So we lost many men they jumped into the paths of lasers to protect her. Not knowing she could easily deflect them. Eventually she ordered us to stop seemingly appalled by what we did. Why she was I could not say. But for the first five minutes it was hell. It remembered my training. And it saved me. My trigger was depressed constantly and droids fell to my gun. I kept it slung low on my hip. Accuracy did not matter here. Beside me one of my brothers was ripped apart by a grenade. I didn't even flinch as his blood sprayed across my helmet. One of our men fell wounded. We didn't pause. Our medic swiftly knelt by him we formed a defensive position around him and soon the man was back in the fight. His head was shot off second later. But he did feel regret. He had done his duty.

This was when we started to sacrifice men to save the Jedi. The man nearest to me saw a sniper and jumped infront of the Jedi. The snipers bolt took him right through the chest. Next one of our men tackled an SBD to the ground and shoved a grenade on it. He never got away in time. That's when she orders us to stop. "Stop it!" She sounded disgusted and sad. "I can protect myself." Our response was immediate. "Yes Ma'am." And she did. We where amazed at her prowess. It was astounding. She blocked blaster bolts! And charged the enemy lines. We followed. One moment I remember in particular. A droid had charged me and we where pointblank range. It had whipped its hand at me. It blocked the blow with my gun. Quickly I twisted the gun and kicked. The droid gave an electronic sigh and died. Behind it I could see an SBD its wrist gun pointed straight my chest. Is moved but to slow. And suddenly the Jedi is there in a blur of speed slicing the droid in half. She looks at me and asks. "Are you alright." I reply in a monotone. "I am combat ready ma'am." She looks at me odd then continues on. I do not understand it. Why does she consider us odd? We do our job. We are good at it. We do not fail. This I will never understand. They let compassion have a place in combat. They do not enjoy combat either. And yet they excel at it. I do not understand. Nor do I wish to. War is my life. Battle is my blood.

The battle ends soon. Around us bodies are strewn. We are now allowed to go tend to the sick. I kneel beside on man. He had been shot in the stomach by a rocket. He is dying. I check his dog tag and move on. He did his duty. He understands. Several can be healed. I kneel beside another. His is missing an arm. But out tech's can fix that. I bandage him up and move on. The Jedi has called us in. We march in. Our battle is done. We are to load up and continue. Some sections of this battle require our attention.


End file.
